Hotdog stood atop a metal awning, snout inappropriately pointed in the air. Proudly, he observed dozens of drunk chicks scurrying about below in vomit-coloured jumpsuits. Wait… that should say ‘vomit-covered’. Same thing?
The drunken hos loaded up trolley after trolley of canisters of his
pulled pork. He had been busy today, unloading deposit after deposit until there was no question as to whether his meat was red or not. All in the name of science. All in the name of Hammunism!
As he walked along the platform, he mused about how the bones of Nefarious Ned Kaye’s original plan were still good. Hotdog had been genetically engineered to exert mind control over any of his spawn. That much had been successfully tested on the litter he bore with the sizzling Miss Piggy. The problem was, the scientist’s follow-up was lacking.
He trod across the walkway further, and looked down upon a row of animal pens lining one wall of the room.
“Oink oiinnk oiink oink oink oiinnk.”
“This little piggy went to market.”
He grinned as one of the drunk chicks shot a piglet in the head and began carving it up on the spot while the other children squealed around them.
”Oink oiinnk oiink oiinnk oink.”
“This little piggy stayed home.”
A box full of his canisters clinked past the pen on a trolley. A ho slapped a sign reading ‘Swine Wine’ to the side as it was sealed up and wheeled off.
”Oink oiinnk oiink oink oiink oink.”
“This little piggy had roast beef.”
A cow mooed in the next pen over as a drunken ho pulled a rubber glove over her hand and prepared to inseminate it.
”Oink oiinnk oiink oink oink.”
“This little piggy had none.”
Miss Piggy’s carcass lowered down into another pen. The fully grown sows inside quickly began to devour it.
”Oink oink oiinnk oiink oiink ‘oink oink oink’ oink oink oink oink.”
“And this little piggy cried ‘wee wee wee’ all the way home.”